


When They Can't See

by SupernaturalWinchester67



Series: When They Can't See [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Injury Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 06:05:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16887030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalWinchester67/pseuds/SupernaturalWinchester67
Summary: When the reader is injured on a hunt and has trouble sleeping at night, she discovers that Dean has a lot more hidden pain than he let’s on…





	1. Chapter 1

“Guys,” you called from the back of the house. “Guys!”

You’d taken out the werewolf but the gash on your ankle was throbbing. They were still clearing out the place from what it sounded like. Pounding feet came down a hall towards you just as you grabbed your blade again. 

“Oh fuck,” you said, a stray wolf pouncing on you as you tried to get to your feet. You pulled yourself away, leg barely avoiding a bite but not without getting another scratch over your injury. “Argh!”

“Hey!” yelled Dean from the hall entrance, distracting the wolf long enough for you to plunge your blade up. Your leg burned and you were already tearing your boot off, another shout ripping it’s way out. “Shit, Y/N, you didn’t-”

“No bites, just…” you said, scrunching up your face and dropping your head. You’d had worse, much worse and when you were a lot younger at that. You could deal with it. 

But it  _burned_  and was hot and your hand was shaking as you tried to remember to keep your blade up until you got the all clear.

“We’re good!” you heard Sam shout, Dean leaving his guard position and kneeling down beside you.

“Can I look?” he asked, your free hand currently holding your wounds, squeezing it like that would make the bleeding stop.

“N-No,” you said, thinking maybe you were getting used to the sharp, pulsating pain. You could stay like this, it’d be okay like- “Dean, I said no.”

He stopped moving his hand around your wrist and you met his eyes. 

 _Weak stupid little wannabe hunter_. God he looked so angry you moved your hand away out of shock more than anything else. Sam’s footsteps pulled you back to reality as Dean moved your sock off, pushing your jeans up.

“It’s deep. You’re gonna need stitches,” he said, rolling up the pant leg so it didn’t fall down. You grabbed your destroyed sock and shoe in one hand, bracing yourself against the one that held your blade to stand up. Dean held his hands up but you pushed off the wall and managed to get up on your own.

“Here,” said Dean, pulling a bandana from his pocket and tying it around it. You hissed and would have fallen if Sam hadn’t moved to your side to help you. He pretty much carried you out to Baby, helping you in the back where you focused on trying not to get blood on anything.

The motel wasn’t that far of a drive and Sam got you inside and on his bed fast, digging through his bag for the first aid kit. He tossed it beside you as he went to grab a towel from the bathroom. Dean was lingering though, watching you. 

You weren’t giving him anymore reason to look at you like that again and grabbed the kit, unwrapping a fresh needle, sticking a thread through it as Dean breathed sharply. You didn’t hesitate to push the needle head against your sensitive skin, poking it sharply so it went through the cut and out the other side.

Chopping off your foot seemed like a good idea compared to the Hell that was going on down there. All you were doing was making the dull throb spike into something unbearable. You held your breath and made fast work, your hand trembling through it as you tried to go fast. 

You missed and hit your gash, enough to bring tears to your eyes but you bit them down, listening to Dean sigh and leave. So much for that plan. You had to stop, Sam coming back with a scowl on his face.

“Y/N, I have to clean it. Here,” he said, grabbing a flask from Dean’s bag. “Drink that. It should hurt less.” You knew it’d be whiskey but fuck, that was _strong_. You forced it down, your head going numb a few minutes later after chugging way too much. “I’ll finish up.”

Sam’s fingers were gentler than your own. You felt it and it definitely still hurt but it was tolerable. Until you remembered there was a second gash and Sam was trying to stitch over the spot where they intersected. You groaned and threw a pillow over your face, grunting into it as Sam did his best to be as gentle as possible. Eventually it stopped, something soft and dry over your ankle wrapping it up.

“Take one of these,” said Sam, stealing your pillow away and handing you a glass. You held out your hand and he dropped a tylenol in it. “Take a rest. We’ll clean up the rest of you in the morning.”

“I was stupid,” you said, gulping down your water and sitting up, trying to get your jeans off. 

“Careful,” said Sam, helping you with your bad leg. You had a nasty bruise on the inside of your thigh you hadn’t felt. Awesome. “Want some ice?”

“No. I want to not be so bad at this,” you said, laying back, hoping you were drunk enough to pass out soon.

“You’re as bad as him,” you heard Sam mutter. You turned away, deciding the passing out thing was a good decision. You couldn’t hide the whimper when your leg rested on your injured one. You turned to your other side, wincing when it still hurt. “Gotta lay on your back Y/N.”

You closed your eyes and sighed, something warm draped over your top half and most of your legs, you injured foot sticking out. 

“Dean and I’ll get another room. Let you have some peace and quiet.”

 

You weren’t in the best mood when the three of you got home the next day. Your ankle throbbed, you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t take a shower, couldn’t get around without using a pair of crutches or hopping like a rabbit. Not to mention Dean called off hunting until you healed up.

“Dean, I don’t need a babysitter and I certainly don’t need two,” you said, standing in his doorway, leaning heavily against it. Thank God he was right next door and you could just hop there without much of a problem.

“Y/N, I’m not going to argue with you about this. Taking a few weeks off isn’t going to kill us,” said Dean, cleaning off one of the guns he had torn apart on his bed.

“But-”

“Unless you want to clean you can go,” he said without looking up. You rolled your eyes and spun around, ready to go back when his voice stopped you. “You doing okay?”

“What?” you asked, turning around, Dean still working on his gun, not giving you a second glance.

“I said are you doing okay. Your leg and everything,” he said, rubbing the rag over and over the piece in his hand.

“It’s fine. Just a cut,” you said. He nodded and went quiet, focus back on his guns. “Do you want help? Cleaning those.”

“Nope. I’m good,” he said, picking up a different piece, giving that one the same amount of care as the one before it. You almost asked why he was always so indifferent towards you, giving you the cold shoulder or keeping everything so polite and courteous and not at all how real friends acted. It wasn’t fair. You liked him and had to shove it all down just because he put you at arms length anytime you tried to have him open up. 

But he was a damn good hunter and if being colder got you there, maybe you were better off keeping him at a distance.

 

Twelve hours later you were laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. You leg was cold, your ankle pulsing just enough to keep you awake. It was already past one and you really just wanted a few solid hours together. Then there was that sound, the shuffling one again. The bunker made some weird sounds at night, it was kind of expected in a place that old but this was different. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you realized it was footsteps.

You reached for your gun in your nightstand but paused when you heard the door next door open and shut. 

“S’just Dean,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and trying to relax. It worked too for a minute until you heard your own door open. You raised your head, blinking as you caught sight of Dean in his pajamas. “Dean?”

“Go back to bed, Y/N,” he whispered, waving you to lay back down. You must have looked worried because he sighed. “Your door was open, trying to keep the heat in. Bed sweetheart,” he said pointing again and you relented, your head hitting the pillow.

You heard him close up and get in his own room but you knew for a fact your door wasn’t open. Maybe he was…no he wasn’t doing  _that_. He wouldn’t actually  _check_  on you. That was the thought you had and kept with you all throughout the next day. 

Until you heard your door open around two in the morning for a brief moment. You pretended to be asleep, someone moving your blanket that was half on the ground back over you. The door shut back up after not long and you heard the one next door again, Dean’s heavy sigh seeping through the wall.

Dean Winchester was checking on you at night.

“Dean,” you asked the next day at breakfast. “What were you doing last night?”

“Sleeping? Like a normal person? Why, what were you doing?” he asked. You tilted your head. You could see it all over his hard face that he didn’t think you’d caught him.

“My foot still hurts. Makes it hard to get a restful night, ya know?” you said, not wanting him to feel like he was hiding some big secret that he came in the night before.

“It’s not that bad, Y/N. I thought you were tougher than that,” he said, picking up his bowl and tossing it in the sink.

Ah. There was the asshole you knew. Only now you knew there was another side. The one he didn’t want you to know about for some reason. You headed back to your room, hopping back in bed to try get a nap in.

Tonight you were going to see exactly what Dean got up to when he thought no one could see.


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost midnight when you were putting a fresh bandage on your foot. It was healing but not as quickly as you’d hoped. Bashing it against your dresser while you were changing earlier probably hadn’t helped either. Now you had a nice bruise to go along with with your stitches. Only a few more days and you could hopefully take them out.

You had your door creaked open when you heard…well you weren’t exactly sure  _what_  that sound was. It wasn’t Dean up and walking around. He’d been snoring loudly not two minutes ago. You carefully got over to your door frame and stuck your head out. No one was there but the sound was coming from the right. You put a hand on the wall and started to hop a little ways, quickly realizing it had to be coming from Dean’s room. 

You poked your head in his open door and sighed. He was having some kind of nightmare, that much was obvious. His face was frightened and covered in a sheen of sweat. He was gripping at his sheets and he made tiny noises that sounded a lot like whimpers and pleading. You were about to go over and shove him awake but he stilled, rubbing a hand over his face and closed eyes.

You got out of there and back in your room, climbing back in bed, hearing him get out of his not long after. You grabbed the book on your night stand and opened it up, pretending to read as you spotted Dean glance in as he went past.

“You’re still up?” he asked, yawning and rubbing the back of his neck. You nodded and put your book away.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you said, lifting up your leg. Dean scowled and you winced at seeming weak again.

“If it’s that bad we should take you to an actual doctor. Something might be fractured,” he said. You shrugged.

“I’m fine, really,” you said. “Just not good with pain I guess.”

Dean hummed and left, using the bathroom down the hall before stopping at your door again. He looked inside and sighed. He came in and grabbed your coat from the back of your chair and tossed it to you.

“There’s a 24 hour urgent care not far,” he said, walking out and coming back a minute later with his coat and boots on. You stared up at him and he groaned. “Come on, I’m tired. The faster we go, the faster I can go back to bed.”

“What are we gonna say? A dog scratched me and my friend stitched it up himself?” you asked.

“Yes, exactly that. Now put on your coat and your shoes,” he said, grabbing a pair of flip flops from the corner of the room. You were about to protest that he was overreacting when you saw that look again. “I’ll be in Baby.”

You relented, knowing it wouldn’t hurt to have someone look at it. It was a little hard getting up the steps in the garage without help but Dean was already grumbling by the time you got to the car. He was quiet and you weren’t entirely positive Dean shouldn’t be getting looked at by the doctor himself.

“Told you so,” said Dean an hour later, sliding back into Baby where you had a soft cast on your foot.

“It’s not broken, Dean. It’s dislocated,  _was dislocated_. Wear this a few days and it’ll be as good as new,” you said. You had gotten lucky though. One more little push and the blood supply would have started to get cut off.

“The doctor said two weeks minimum,” said Dean. “Don’t go half-assing this.”

“You really want to not hunt anything for three whole weeks, Dean? I’ll be fine,” you said, crossing your arms.

“You’re always fine,” he said, backing out and heading home. You stared out the window, ready to go home and give up on your stupid plan of figuring out why Dean was different at night. But apparently he wasn’t. He was still a jerk that treated you like a child all because you weren’t as good as him.

“Goodnight,” you said, jumping out of the car as soon as he parked and heading for your room. It was easy for Dean to catch up and brush past you as he headed for his own. “Thanks.”

“Whatever,” he said. “You need anything else ask Sam. I’m going to bed.” 

You didn’t have a chance to respond before he shut his door. You rolled your eyes and made your way back to bed. A tiny smile found it’s way across your lips, the dull throbbing in your ankle gone for the first time in days. Maybe you’d finally get some good sleep for once.

Slowly your ankle got better and neither one of you brought up your night time excursion except to tell Sam the news. Still, you waited up at night to see if Dean would open your door and check on you. Every night without fail, he did. Sometimes he fixed your blankets if you’d fallen in a half-sleep and had thrown them about, sometimes all you heard was a soft sigh from the door.

Every night without fail, right before then, Dean did something else too. You couldn’t believe you’d never noticed it before but Sam always said you slept like a log. Dean had nightmares. A lot. Every single night you heard him yelling, shouting, calling out, sounding so afraid and upset. In the morning’s when you asked how he slept he said like a baby and went back to being annoyed with you that he couldn’t hunt or simply polite, like you were a stranger living in his house. You weren’t that though. Sammy was family to you and you kept waiting for the day Dean would let you in too but he was so stubborn you weren’t sure he’d ever get there on his own.

When you heard Dean wake up one night you sat up in bed, staring at your door, knowing he’d be by to check on you after walking around the bunker to take a look at Sam. Three minutes later he was back, the door opening and Dean more than surprised to see you awake and staring back.

“Dean,” you said. He looked frozen, like he never expected to ever get caught doing this. Now you wondered when it started. It couldn’t be a recent thing, not with how sure he was that you’d never be awake. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, thought I heard a noise was all,” he said. “G’night.” 

He pulled your door shut and went back to his room. No way was he getting off that easy. You climbed out of bed and your room, hopping down the hall to open up his door where he was laying in bed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, propped up on his elbow. You shut the door behind you and sat on his bed.

“You tell me,” you said. Dean rolled his eyes and lay down, back to you. “Fine.” 

You lay next to him, poking him in the back when he turned so fast the bed bounced.

“Go back to your room Y/N. Now,” said Dean, breathing hard. You shook your head.

“I want to know what’s wrong, why you keep checking on-”

“I’m fine. Leave and go get some rest before I throw a frail little thing like you out,” he said, glaring at you. He was only being mean to make you go you told yourself.

“You’re different when you’re alone. Why won’t you talk to-”

“You have ten seconds to get the Hell out of my room before I toss you out,” he said. You didn’t want to believe him but it was hard to imagine anything other than he hated you when he looked at you liked that. So you got out of his bed and left, crawling back in your own with a tiny quiver of hurt in you.

The two of you kept your distance the next day, Sam all too aware of the strange tension in the air. You went to bed early, no reason to stay up anymore. You woke up to use the bathroom at who knew what hour, flopping back in bed, snuggling into the warm sheets. You were almost asleep when you heard it.

The sound of your door opening. He didn’t come in or move your blankets but he was still checking on you. Even if he was mad with you. You smiled when he shut the door. He actually, somewhere in there, actually cared about you.

Tomorrow you’d come up with a plan to let him know he didn’t have to only show that care when he thought you couldn’t see it.


	3. Chapter 3

It was past midnight that night, coming up with nothing as to how to get Dean to open up. The day hadn’t been spent with Dean’s usual cold shoulders and polite exchanges. It turned very quickly into Dean leaving the room every time you entered, ignoring you when you asked him to hand you a glass, giving you hard stares whenever you caught his eye. Maybe you’d pushed him too far this time.

You lay down, drifting off to sleep, waking a few hours later when you heard your door close. He was still checking, still cared even if he was trying to make you think otherwise. That gave you an idea.

You rolled out of bed and went in his room, hearing his grumble as you came in and lay down beside him. You got under the covers and turned your back to him, going back to sleep. Or at least trying to.

“What are you-”

“G’night,” you mumbled. You wouldn’t make him talk. But you weren’t leaving him alone if he’d at least allow that.

To your amazement, you weren’t pushed off onto the floor. You heard him grunt and groan for a moment before laying back down, his body away from yours but nice and warm. When you woke in the morning you were alone, the other half of the bed cold. It was a start though and you’d take that. For three more nights you climbed into his bed around midnight, not saying anything, Dean staying silent while his protests diminished, stopping altogether.

Until the fourth when he was sitting up in the middle of his bed, staring at the door when you entered. You only hesitated a moment before you went in and over to your spot. Dean had been softer towards you, more like the way he was with Sam ever since you started staying with him. It’d been nice but you knew he was going to put a stop to it at some point.

He waited until you were on your side, glancing down like he wanted you to lay down. This was different but maybe different was a good thing. You got under the covers and let your head hit the pillow, turning your body away like you always did.

“Don’t do that,” he said, his body weight shifting as you rolled back, Dean laying down just inches from you. “Why are you sleeping in my bed?”

“I don’t want you to be alone,” you said, expecting some scowl or pout to cross his face. It didn’t come and you got braver. “You don’t have to check on me if I’m with you.”

“Does it bother you? The checking thing,” he asked, everything about him so much softer this close up. It brought up those feelings you’d pushed deep down for your own well-being. Dean was barely your friend. A friend you’d do anything for but he was just so…confusing.

“No. I kind of like it,” you said, Dean opening his mouth to speak but stopping himself. “It’s nice.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, eyes still on yours. You had to let him do it in his own time, no matter how much you wanted to ask him how he was. “Goodnight.”

“Night Dean,” you said, shutting your eyes. You felt him move though and you flashed yours open, Dean gulping nervously.

“Your foot,” he said. “You have to sleep on your other side.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you said, knowing even that little bit of conversation had been too much for him. You went to roll over but his hand grabbed your waist, keeping you in place. “Dean?”

“I-I’m not pushing. I want you to get better is all,” said Dean. You nodded and gave his hand on you a light squeeze.

“I’ll keep coming back as long as you want,” you said, his hand sliding away. You turned over, feeling the pressure off your ankle. Dean didn’t turn over but instead kept a hand on your back, afraid you might run off. “Night.”

“Night sweetheart.”

 

It was a week later and you were getting your cast off the next day. You were so excited for it you accidentally forgot that you weren’t supposed to go to Dean’s room for bed until it was much later. The surprise on his face told you your mistake and you groaned, embarrassed in the light of his room that you hadn’t waited until the dead of night when you were allowed to see a sliver of Dean’s soft side.

“I’m sorry, I’ll come back later,” you said, trying to back out of the room when he shook his head.

“I stay up for you anyways. Come on,” he said, patting your side. You rubbed your arm, unsure of going too fast for him. He rolled his eyes and walked over to you, pulling you to the mattress. “Just get in the bed.”

You crawled under the covers, Dean doing the same before turning off the light. You were tired but it wasn’t like how one of you was always half-awake when this normally happened. You noticed for the first time how relaxed he was.

“Why don’t you just come in here when you’re ready for bed. No one has to wait up for the other anymore,” said Dean. You turned your body to face him, spotting a sleepy smile on his face.

“Sure,” you said, glad to get back the two hours of sleep a night. You expected that to make him happy, not cause a frown to appear. “What’s wrong?”

“I know it’s my own fault for making you act like it but…can you stop dancing around me? I…I want you to not say yes to everything I say or suggest because you think you’ll upset me or scare me or anything like that. Can we…be like that with each other?” he asked. You smiled, a genuine one and he immediately saw the difference from the other ones you constantly gave. “Thanks.”

“What are friends for,” you said, shutting your eyes, keeping your body turned towards his, hoping he’d take the bait.

“I’ve been a pretty shitty one,” he said. You opened your eyes, seeing the worry in his. “I’m such an ass to you and all you are is nice back.”

“You’re not one to let people in. I never expected to be treated the same as Sam,” you said. He closed his eyes for a long time before finding it in himself to open them.

“You’re wrong. I let you in, a long, long time ago,” said Dean. “I didn’t want to but you just had to be so…you stay in here with me, for me, when I don’t deserve it. I don’t…”

“You’re okay,” you said softly, cautiously placing your hand against his chest.

“I’m really not,” he said, ducking his head down but putting his own hand over yours regardless. “This should feel good and it does but…I don’t want you to do it. I’m not…I’m a killer. I don’t know how to love people the way you’re supposed to. I’ve done so much stupid crap to save Sam, protect him. That’s not healthy…it’s not what you should want.”

“You’re funny,” you said, moving your thumb over his chest. “You want me to do what you want and you don’t want me to do what you want. You can see why I’m getting some mixed signals.”

“I don’t know what I want,” he said. Yes, he did but he wasn’t ready for that. You weren’t sure you were either but you could wait.

“I’ll be here when you figure it out one way or the other,” you said, moving your hand up to cup his cheek for just a second. “Night Dean.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

 

One Month Later

You jumped when you heard the door open. No more. You couldn’t take anymore today. You just needed a break. Why’d you go out on that hunt? You hadn’t run on that stupid ankle in weeks and no wonder you weren’t as fast as you used to be. Getting caught you could handle.

Getting caught by a group of demons, the same ones from years ago, the ones who knew you as a kid and had their faces light up when they realized it was you…years of badass hunting vanished like that. You were a scared little girl again, praying to God someone would find you. Or put an end to it.

“Over here,” you heard a familiar voice. You lifted your tired head to find Dean in front of you, looking absolutely mortified. “We gotcha now sweetheart. We’re going to bring you home.”

All the way home they kept exchanging glances, looking over shoulders at you in the backseat. They’d gotten you cleaned up and bandaged but they were more than concerned with how you weren’t shaking this one off like normal. At the bunker it was worse, the boys footsteps in the hall often when you went straight to your room and shut the door, not letting anybody inside. Eventually they stopped, deciding to let you be. But you couldn’t sleep, even if you were exhausted. Dean wasn’t the only one who’d gotten used to sleeping next to someone else.

You figured you were allowed to go back to that, especially with what had happened Dean was sure to be more understanding even if he was against it now. He didn’t say anything when you went to his room and got in bed, like he knew you’d come on your own. What you hadn’t expected was to start crying or for Dean to wrap his arms around you and bury you in his chest.

“You’re okay. I won’t let anything get you,” said Dean quietly, kissing the top of your head, running his hands up and down your back and arms. “You’re safe sweetheart.”

You knew spending the night had started out because he needed it but you needed more than a body to lay next to on this one. Somehow he knew that, somehow he was the one that knew you needed something big and strong around you as you got it out of your system. Dean always fell asleep before you did except for tonight. His gentle hand on your back was the last thing you remembered before crying yourself to sleep.

Dean, in all his amazingness, didn’t bring it up at breakfast about what had happened. He kept a close eye on you, making sure you always knew he was close by, that you were okay. He more than deserved you but at the minimum, he’d started to see that he didn’t have to hide so much and you really needed it that day more than he realized.

“Hey,” said Dean, knocking on your door that night. “You coming to bed?”

“S’okay,” you said. “I know I kept you up last night. You can-”

“You promised me you’d stay. I know how you feel right now. Take some advice from a really smart girl I know and come to bed so I can show you how not alone you are,” he said. 

“Dean-”

“I had to sleep without you for three weeks. I need you back, Y/N. You helped me. Let me help you,” he said, holding out his hands for you. Like it was second nature you found yourself in his bed, curled up in his chest again only there were no tears tonight.

“Dean I like you,” you said. 

“I like you,” he said easily, your head whipping up. “Three weeks was long enough for me to get my head out of my ass and figure out what I want. That’s you. I’m lucky enough that you’re what I need too. Give me a chance sweetheart?”

“Yeah. Yeah you can definitely have one of those.”

 

“You mind if I ask you guys a question?” asked Sam one morning a few weeks later. “Not that I’m not thrilled with you two being a thing but I thought maybe you didn’t like each other.”

“Oh, I think we liked each other right away and that was the problem,” you said, sipping on your coffee.

“Because he’s him and you’re you. Makes sense,” said Sam. You scrunched up your face and Dean had to stifle a laugh. “You do realize you’re just like him, don’t you?”

“No I’m not,” you said. 

“You kind of are sweetheart,” said Dean, kissing your temple as he stood. “S’okay. Sammy’s just jealous he isn’t as awesome as us.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” said Sam, rolling his eyes. “I got to finish packing, head out in ten?”

“Sure thing,” you said. When he was gone Dean stepped over and gave you a hug, still warming up to the idea of showing affection more openly. “You okay?”

“It’s a demon hunt. I want you to stay close today,” said Dean. “I know you’re capable and could handle it on your own but for my own peace of mind. It’s your first one since…”

“I need you with me, Dean. I need to get my confidence back,” you said.

“It’ll happen. Until then I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. Promise.”


End file.
